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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26795737">My Kind of Crazy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretzelduck/pseuds/pretzelduck'>pretzelduck</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The My Kind of Crazy Stories [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>All Elite Wrestling, Professional Wrestling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>But Only Around Each Other, Getting Together, M/M, Mentions of Injuries, Mox and Darby are Soft, Protective Mox, Romance, Strong Language</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:02:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,119</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26795737</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretzelduck/pseuds/pretzelduck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They were opponents just minutes ago but that didn't matter to Mox.  He liked Darby, respected Darby, and he was going to look after him whether Darby wanted him to or not.  He'd had to fight him tonight - had been forced to hurt him - since he wouldn't just stay down.  But Mox understood that stubbornness.  It made sense to him.  Darby made sense to him.</p>
<p>The fact that Mox liked his world a little bit better whenever Darby Allin was in it?  That was nobody's business but his.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Darby Allin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The My Kind of Crazy Stories [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>My Kind of Crazy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>*Set directly after the Jon Moxley/Darby Allin title match on the August 5, 2020 episode of Dynamite*</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Come on, kid."</p>
<p>He'd said his piece - meant the words too.  He could ride with him whenever.  But right now, the only place they were going was to get the kid looked at.  Officials were nearby but Mox ignored them.  Sent them scattering with a single glare.</p>
<p>No one else but him was gonna touch Darby.</p>
<p>Those eyes were glazed over and Mox hated it.  He knew pain - it was an old and familiar friend - but that didn't mean he always liked it.  Inflicting pain made sense and he never would have disrespected the kid by holding back on a single punch.  Darby was fearless and stubborn and he made sense to him too.  Mox wouldn't have stayed down either.</p>
<p>But now he was gonna make sure that the kid was still in one piece.</p>
<p>Mox didn't care if Darby wanted the help or not.  He was getting it.  The last thing he was built for was gentleness but he did his best as he helped Darby roll out of the ring.  If it pissed the kid off, then that was too bad.  He'd gone to war tonight; he deserved a little peace.  Hell, maybe they both did.</p>
<p>Championship slung over one shoulder, Mox kept the other arm wrapped around Darby, what little weight he did have leaning into his side.  He felt almost tiny like this and Mox hated that too.  Darby wasn't weighed in pounds but in violence and guts and Mox liked that far better.</p>
<p>It was slow-going to the back but he wasn't going to take the risk of moving too fast for Darby.  He was tough but he was hurting.  The stiffness of his back and the harshness of his breathing told Mox that.  So they'd take it one step at a time.  No one bothered trying to stop them - everyone giving them a wide berth.</p>
<p>Good.</p>
<p>They were almost to the trainer's room when Darby faltered.  A little stutter step like he tripped over his own feet or realized where they were and didn't want to go in.  Either way, Darby didn't have a choice.  Someone was gonna make sure he hadn't at least cracked that stubborn skull of his.</p>
<p>"Don't make me carry you, kid."</p>
<p>Mox kept his voice quiet and aimed his words directly toward Darby's ear.  This was between them - no one else.  A short and muttered 'fuck off' was Darby's response and it was only his own simmering anger that kept him from laughing.</p>
<p>God, he really liked this kid.</p>
<p>Which was strange, in the first place.  He didn't like people.  He barely tolerated most anybody he was ever around and did his best to keep that number as small as possible.  Mox didn't need both hands to count the number of many people he had ever called 'friend'.  He didn't know what Darby was.  Allies, partners, friends.  None of it sounded right.  They were just Mox and Darby.</p>
<p>The trainer's room was empty which didn't make any sense but Mox didn't care that much.  Darby didn't make a sound as he climbed up onto the exam table.  Those eyes were still glazed over and he looked so damn tired that Mox had to look away.  Some assistant dared approach him long enough to glue the cut on his head shut and tape up his probably broken finger.  With a glare that for some reason sent the guy scrambling away, Mox snagged the offered towel out of his hand and wiped the blood off his face.  Somehow, he'd forgotten about the blood until now.</p>
<p>Mox hadn't forgotten about the fucking gremlin and his attack dog, though.  He knew he'd been talking but words were easy to ignore.  Everybody talked too much for his liking, anyway.  He had a pretty good idea of what had happened at the end and it just plain pissed him off.  He had dared taint Darby's title match with his cowardice.  He was dead.  That three-lettered bonehead was probably too stupid to know it but he was dead.</p>
<p>He was pacing now, snarling and ready to snap.  There wasn't anything capable of keeping him from getting his hands on the coward.  That dark part of him that was always angry - forever right on the edge of boiling over - wanted violence.  It wanted to make someone bleed.  But just this once - in this moment - another impulse was stronger.</p>
<p>No one else but him was putting a single finger on Darby tonight.</p>
<p>Mox made an exception for the doctor, even though that much was making him uneasy and the guy was definitely taking far too long.  But he didn't know where the attack dog was and he didn't care as long as it was nowhere near Darby.  The kid deserved better than to be shoved aside like that.  Mox had his back, even if the random people walking by kept looking in at him like they didn't know why he was still here.</p>
<p>He barked at one of them to grab his and the kid's stuff.  At least they could make themselves useful.</p>
<p>His heart was still racing and his blood was still roaring in his ears.  Usually, both would have calmed down by now.  But each second longer that the doctor examined Darby urged his heart to beat faster.  Bags were dropped at his feet but he had no idea if he said thank you to the faceless blur or not.  Courtesy was pretty far down the list of things he cared about right now.</p>
<p>Mox was more concerned about getting Darby out of here.  They weren't staying a minute longer than they needed to and like hell was the kid going anywhere but with him.  Someone had to make sure he didn't keel over or decide to go pick a fight with gravity.  He didn't need a babysitter or any shit like that but he'd fought for a championship and lost tonight.  Having someone around who gave a damn about you on a night like that wasn't the worst thing.  Even for a loner.</p>
<p>Even if Darby was stuck with someone like him.</p>
<p>The sound of a throat clearing caught his attention so Mox turned around to see the doctor looking at him funny and Darby sitting on the edge of the table.</p>
<p>"You gonna live, kid?"</p>
<p>It cost him - the wince made that obvious - but Darby flipped him off for the second time tonight.  There was nothing that could stop the laughter this time and the doctor's eyes went wide and he took a step back.  Whatever.  Bending down, Mox opened up his bag, put the title in and grabbed a shirt to throw on.  He reached for Darby's weirdly small bag but stopped when he heard an annoyed huff above him.</p>
<p>"I can get my own shirt, asshole."</p>
<p>Looking up at Darby from his crouched position, Mox pointed a single finger at his paint-smeared chest.</p>
<p>"Stay."</p>
<p>And that was when he knew for sure that Darby had had enough for tonight.  That he was tired and hurting and done.  Because he didn't even try to move.  He just sat there, watching and waiting with only a slightly irritated curl to his lips.</p>
<p>Figured.</p>
<p>Of all the fucking things, <em>that </em>was the instruction he obeyed.</p>
<p>It took a second to find anything in the kid's bag - someone had obviously hastily stuffed his jacket on top - but he chucked the baggy, ratty tank top back up at Darby without looking.  Normally, wandering about in his gear wasn't something he did but he wasn't staying around any longer than he had absolutely had to.  And if Darby had any complaints, it was too damn bad.  Pulling his phone out of his bag, Mox ordered a ride since he knew that driving himself was a bad idea right now and he definitely wasn't being stupid with Darby along.  By the time he was done, Darby was dressed and standing, even if he was leaning more against the table than Mox would like.</p>
<p>"Let's get outta here."</p>
<p>Darby didn't argue or flip him off again but Mox was pretty sure that he caught the glimpse of an eye roll when he hefted both their bags over one shoulder.  He kept one hand free, though, so he could rest it on the middle of Darby's back as they made their way out of the arena.  He didn't put his arm around his shoulders this time; his head seemed clear enough that he could walk slowly.  Mox didn't want to put a bigger target on Darby than he had to but he was definitely ensuring that everyone knew the kid was under his protection.  And there was this part in the back of his mind that didn't want to hurt Darby's feelings by making him feel weak or some shit like that but he was doing his best to ignore it.  Enemies could come from anywhere at any time - Mox had learned that the hard way, in too many arenas in too many towns.  If they were jumped, he was pulling Darby out of the way first.  He could take another beating tonight but the kid wasn't getting another scratch on him.</p>
<p>If he liked the way Darby felt under his fingers - liked having proof that he was there - that was no one's business but his.</p>
<p>They were outside quicker than he thought they would be.  Maybe it was the company, even if it was silent and limping.  But Mox felt better outside - breathed a little easier - and from the way a little bit of tension faded under his hand, Darby was the same way.  He had to admit: they were a lot alike.  But Darby still shone bright - his heart evident and clear.  The tattoos and the paint and the darkness couldn't hide how brilliant he was.  And anyone or anything who tried to dim that - to change him or cage him - would have to go through Mox first.</p>
<p>Of course, their ride was the smallest vehicle in the world.  It was a tight fit but he got their gear in and waited for Darby to get in before finally sitting down.  Mox was encouraged by the fact that Darby flipped him off when he tried to help him sit down.  He was equally discouraged with the way those tattooed fingers shook as he buckled the seat belt.  The driver knew the hotel they were headed to so he didn't pay attention to where they were after that.</p>
<p>But Mox knew the moment they left the parking lot because Darby slumped back in the seat, drained and exhausted.  He should keep his mouth shut and let the kid rest.  But he had a question that had been bumping around in the back of his mind and figured he might as well as ask it before one of them passed out altogether.</p>
<p>"Surprised you came along without a fight."</p>
<p>Mox watched Darby's eyes close briefly before they fluttered back open, blinking rapid and still fucking halfway glazed over.  But his words were clear if soft.</p>
<p>"You said I could ride with you any time I wanted."</p>
<p>Honestly, Mox had had no idea if Darby had even heard what he'd said after their match.  He had been dazed and battered, still in that post-fight haze.  But it figured that he was too stubborn to let his mind completely unfocus like that.  Those eyes were closed again and it looked like they might stay that way for a bit.  So he didn't bother trying to hide the slight smile that hearing Darby's words drew out of him.  Most people liked his company less than he liked theirs, after all.</p>
<p>"That I did, kid."</p>
<p>Somehow, Darby managed to look annoyed with his eyes closed… half-asleep and half-dead… in the backseat of a shitty Uber.</p>
<p>"Darby."  His head listed toward Mox and he tried not to think about how it sounded when it impacted the mat.  "Not a kid, asshole."</p>
<p>Mox didn't know how to explain that he wasn't trying to be an asshole.  Suddenly and oddly thankful that Darby's eyes were still closed, Mox let his own eyes look at his compadre from head-to-toe.  He didn't know how to say that it wasn't that Darby was young but it was how fucking old he felt.  That sometimes when he watched Darby fight - relentless and nimble - he felt every inch of barbed wire that had ever bit into his skin.</p>
<p>But calling the gremlin a 'kid'?  That was definitely and purposefully disrespectful.</p>
<p>"Okay, Darby."</p>
<p>The simple acknowledgement would have to do and it was only because he was watching closely that Mox saw the little upturn of Darby's lips in response.  And that tiny smile started to make it worth it.  Fighting someone he didn't want to fight.  Hurting someone he didn't want to hurt.</p>
<p>Mox still felt unsettled, though.  It had been a damn good match.  The persistent bastard next to him scratched that maniacal itch of his in all the right ways.  Even the parts of his brain that should be plotting the depths of pain that he was going to inflict upon the gremlin were satiated and silent.  But he still felt wrong.  Something was still off.</p>
<p>A glance next to him showed that Darby's head had fallen the other direction.  Mox found himself weirdly entranced by his reflection, the smeared face paint lit up by the passing street lights.  He wondered if Darby would make as much sense next to him in an empty desert as he did across from him in a ring.  For some delirious and hopeful reason, Mox thought he just might.</p>
<p>Skateboard probably wouldn't roll very well in the sand, though.</p>
<p>The driver hit a pothole or some other shit and it bounced and jarred the car.  It was annoying but the half-strangled whimper next to him quickly made Mox see red.</p>
<p>"Careful!"  He stomped the floor with his boot and pounded the back of the seat in front of him.  "He's hurt, moron."</p>
<p>He had no idea if the muttered words were an apology or not.  Mox couldn't tell what was bothering Darby.  He was still slumped against the seat while his arms were stiff against his sides.  But all the way from the ring to this shitty car, he had barely made a sound.</p>
<p>"Still with me?"</p>
<p>Mox waited and watched.  Waited for Darby to answer.  Watched for that head to turn or those eyes to open again.  He counted three streetlights before he accepted that no response was coming.</p>
<p>"Say something, kid."</p>
<p>Nothing.</p>
<p>Now there was a layer of worry added to whatever part of himself that was unsettled.  If Darby was okay, he wouldn't have missed the chance to call him an asshole.  Reaching out, Mox brushed his two of his fingers against the back of Darby's hand, letting them rest along too still fingers.</p>
<p>"Darby?"</p>
<p>The hand beneath his shifted as Darby hooked one of his fingers around one of Mox's.  He wasn't sure what was louder: the gentle pressure of those skinny fingers against his skin or Darby's quiet voice.</p>
<p>"Still here.  Tired."</p>
<p>Which meant he wasn't just tired, he was drained.  Adrenaline gone, leaving behind nothing but pain and exhaustion.  Mox could feel it creeping up on him too.  But it wasn't going to win.  Darby was right there, trusting him to keep an eye on him.  Mox wasn't gonna fail him.  He just wasn't.</p>
<p>There wasn't much more to the car ride after that but Mox didn't take his hand off of Darby's until the car stopped.  Just in case.</p>
<p>He handled things with the driver and dumped their bags on the curb.  Walking around to the other side of the car, Mox chuckled at the sight of Darby's face sleepily pressed against the window.  He was right there to catch him when he opened the door since apparently, he had managed to unbuckle himself.  Mox got this urge - wild and sudden - to scoop Darby up and carry him inside.  He had used it as a threat but this was different.  It was stronger, somehow.  He wouldn't do it but the idea lingered for a minute at the edge of his thoughts.  Instead, he wrapped an arm around him - hand resting on his waist - and helped him over to their bags.</p>
<p>Darby's eyes were open again, even if they were duller than Mox would like.  He looked more tired than hurt but Mox knew he was gonna feel every bump - and the paradigm shift - in the morning.  They both would.  Their bags were heavier than he remembered when he slung them over his shoulder.  With Darby tucked against his side, they staggered toward the hotel entrance, repeating a walk he had made hundreds of times before in every state of physical condition.  There was even the usual guy in the ugly suit standing off to the side, talking on his phone like he was some kind of big shot.  He caught sight of them and started staring at them like they didn't belong anywhere near him.  Mox resigned himself to only a scowl - he had picked a lot of fights with guys like that over the years - but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Darby flipping the guy off.  Feisty little shit.  But he joined him in giving their gawker the middle finger.  The guy looked absolutely appalled but Mox ignored that completely for the short, quiet chuckle he heard next to him.</p>
<p>Darby laughed.</p>
<p>It was rusty and brief.  Mox remembered times like that - when laughing and smiling felt unnatural and wrong.  He was damn sure that tonight was the first time he had seen Darby hint at being capable of either.  And he found himself hoping that it wasn't just the result of hitting Darby in the head a few too many times.  Mox wanted him to be comfortable like that with him, not just knocked loopy and tired.</p>
<p>That unexpected but not unwelcome notion settled beneath his ribs as they reached the doors.</p>
<p>The lady working the front desk somehow managed to keep a straight face and not look shocked at their bedraggled appearance.  Given the number of wrestlers that stayed here, they weren't probably the first people she had seen drag themselves through those doors bloodied and limping.  Mox gave her props anyway and stopped to fish his room key card out of the outside pocket of his bag.  He waved it in her general direction just to confirm that they weren't vagrants but she just waved him off in return.</p>
<p>"There's an ice machine on every floor and we've got tylenol and ibuprofen for sale here at the desk."</p>
<p>They had to look like complete shit.  Mox blamed Darby's body paint.  As good of a look as it was on him, that shit got everywhere.  He felt Darby straighten up next to him but he couldn't tell why.</p>
<p>"Thanks.  The old man might need some of that later."</p>
<p>Bastard.</p>
<p>Mox looked down to half-glare at the bleached head beside him but at the same time, Darby twisted and looked up at him.  The smile was a little deeper - a little wider - and Mox felt himself returning it without thinking.  It was another good look for Darby even though it caused an unfamiliar warmth to spread through his chest.  He had an arsenal of insults and scowls and swears at his disposal but in this moment, the only thing Mox could do was smile back.</p>
<p>Maybe he was the one that got hit with a piledriver and a paradigm shift.</p>
<p>Or maybe they were both too damn tired.</p>
<p>Mox wasn't sure which one of them broke eye contact first but it was an unspoken signal to start moving again.  They finally got to the elevator and Mox started mashing the 'up' button repeatedly.  He hated waiting for these things - why they took forever sometimes, he had no idea.  Darby elbowed him in the side somewhere around the eighth push.  </p>
<p>The sound of the elevator finally arriving prevented Mox from saying anything, though.  He heard people coming down the hallway so he urged Darby inside the elevator quicker than he probably should be moving and started jabbing at the 'door close' button.  No bony elbow for that one, though.  Thankfully, the universe cooperated for once and the doors closed, leaving them alone.  The only thing Mox hated more than waiting for an elevator was sharing one with anyone.</p>
<p>Darby was an exception.</p>
<p>Mox hit the button for his floor as he felt Darby twitch next to him.  He felt those eyes on him but it wasn't uncomfortable.  But this time, looking back was too much.  If he looked, Darby might see the weird sentiments that were dominating his thoughts.</p>
<p>
  <em>I'm sorry.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Stay with me tonight.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I need to keep you close.</em>
</p>
<p>He wasn't going to say anything.  He didn't have the words for things like that.  But Mox's fingers spread out wider where his hand was still resting on Darby's waist and he shifted a little closer to him.  A couple of seconds stretched out into a long moment as he waited for Darby to press the button for his floor - they weren't on the same one - and those eyes stayed focused on him.  The elevator started to move without any input from Darby and Mox felt a little bit of that unsettled part of him relax.  Darby's gaze slid away from him, only to be replaced by the sensation of a hand touching his back.  An almost calming warmth immediately fell over him.  It was the sort of answer Mox easily understood.</p>
<p>Darby was staying.</p>
<p>He knew he was smiling again - not broadly but contentedly - as the ride up to his floor passed too quickly for his liking.  But caution wiped the smile away when the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened.  Darby's hand didn't move, though, and Mox was oddly pleased by that.  Their energy waning, their pace down the hallway was their slowest yet but eventually, they arrived at his room - the 'do not disturb' sign still hanging from the door.  Mox realized that he was going to need a completely free hand to open the door but there wasn't really a decision to be made.  Dropping their bags to the floor, he felt the sudden weight shift take Darby by surprise.  Fingertips clenched as they both tightened their grips on each other.  </p>
<p>Getting the door open and their bags back up on his shoulder wasn't easy but it never occurred to Mox to relinquish his hold on Darby.  It was simply out of the question.  They maneuvered their way through the entryway - Darby leaning into his side in a way that did nothing but concern him.  And for the time it took them to get into the main room and put their bags down,  Mox's mind was preoccupied with a concept that should probably feel more unnatural than it did.  What would it be like in this moment if Darby was wide awake and whole?  If it was a true choice not something determined by exhaustion, pain, and post-loss malaise?</p>
<p>Maybe he really had gotten hit in the head harder than he thought.</p>
<p>And now, Mox had no idea what to do next.  They were just standing there, Darby's hand still pressed against his back.  He felt calmer now that they were in his room but not entirely.  What remained wasn't post-match restlessness or heightened paranoia.  Mox was still wound up, though.  Almost needing to do something but he didn't want to jostle Darby.  If he didn't want to move yet, then Mox wasn't going to make him.</p>
<p>Couldn't be too comfortable, though.  Standing there like this with him.</p>
<p>And he knew Darby was tired.  They both were.</p>
<p>So why weren't either of them moving?  To sit down or go wash off their faces or take their boots off or something.</p>
<p>It didn't feel awkward.  It should have been awkward but it wasn't.  Neither of them was that social so maybe that was it.  Maybe that was the reason the silence was so almost pleasant.</p>
<p>Mox heard the voice in his head go faster and faster as if it was compensating for how still his body was.  It was distracting and annoying.</p>
<p>"So this is what the champion's suite looks like."</p>
<p>Darby's voice startled him a little.  But it was the tone of the words that surprised him.  The teasing notes in them had this undercurrent of disbelief and hesitation.  Mox couldn't quite puzzle it out.</p>
<p>The room wasn't <em>that</em> bad, though.  He never rented the largest or the nicest but it was enough for him.  And yeah, there was an empty pizza box half-leaning against the dresser.  His leather jacket was hanging from the chair by the left sleeve somehow.  The bed wasn't perfectly made - he hated having housekeeping in while he was gone - but at least he'd remembered to pull the blankets back.  However, Mox couldn't quite remember why his suitcase was upside-down but that wasn't <em>that</em> weird.</p>
<p>"Yep and when you're the champ, I'm sure you'll have some ramp set up in here or something."</p>
<p>Mox could see it too - Darby, wearing the title belt, annoying the hell out of everyone around him by skateboarding all over the room and the hallways.  But all that got was a scoff as Darby wrenched himself out of his grasp and skulked over to a corner of the room.  He leaned against the wall - arms crossed tight against his chest, head down and almost angrily twitching back and forth.</p>
<p>"Don't be an asshole."</p>
<p>What?</p>
<p>"Listen, <em>kid</em>, when I'm being an asshole, you'll know."</p>
<p>He emphasized 'kid' on purpose, more out of frustration than anything else.  It was disorienting being even this far from Darby, which was a realization that set him on edge.  Mox didn't like him out of arm's reach any more than he liked being accused of being an asshole when he wasn't.  And that just unsettled whatever part of him had finally calmed down.</p>
<p>"When I'm champ."  Another scoff that just plain irritated Mox.  "If."</p>
<p>Was that what this bit of dramatics was about?</p>
<p>
  <em>Doubt?</em>
</p>
<p>That was fucking ridiculous.</p>
<p>Darby was brilliant and had already made his list of favorite people to watch wrestle.  Quick and agile and fearless.  Mox <em>knew</em> he was going to be great.  Knew he was going to be a champion someday.  If absolutely nothing else, Darby was too damn stubborn to quit until he held gold.  And he doubted that?</p>
<p>"Darby."  Nothing.  Wouldn't even look back up at him.  "You heard me before - you're going to be a champion someday."</p>
<p>Pep talks weren't his style.  Mox had no idea how to cheer Darby up or reassure him or do whatever it was that he was trying to do.  It would probably help if he would actually look at him.  With a growl, he stalked forward, stopping only inches away from Darby.  Still nothing.  A hand on his shoulder got no reaction but Mox felt better.  Which was equally fucking ridiculous.</p>
<p>"I don't say things I don't mean, Allin."</p>
<p><em>That</em> did something, at least, as Darby raised his head and looked him in the eyes.  However, it was only for a moment as his gaze quickly darted back downward.  The flash was enough, though.  Enough to see the effects of their match were barely held at bay by uncertainty and frustration.  Even though emotions and feelings weren't his thing, any more than pep talks were, Mox understood that mix.  Had felt it enough times before.</p>
<p>"How can I be a champion when I can't even beat you?"</p>
<p>Mox tried damn hard not to be insulted at the words themselves or the fact that they were said more to the floor than his face.  He didn't like the defeated tone, though.  It didn't sound right coming from Darby.  And Mox refused to wonder why that bothered him like it did.</p>
<p>"You will."  The day was coming.  Mox knew it.  Felt it.  "And I'll be pissed as hell at you."  There was more to it than that but the sentiment refused to become spoken words until Darby looked back up at him, blue eyes full of confusion and hurt.  "And damn happy for you too."</p>
<p>He didn't say shit like that.  Hell, Mox rarely thought or felt things like that.  Yet something else that should be more awkward than it was.  Those six words should have stuck on his tongue and not come out smooth as butter with the sole intention of making Darby Allin smile.  They were the truth, though - intentions aside.  But the wary and uncertain look was still there in Darby's eyes and Mox <em>hated</em> it.</p>
<p>"And what will you do if…"  Darby rolled his eyes at Mox's low growl.  "... when I beat you?"</p>
<p>And suddenly, Mox understood the actual problem.  And like so many other things tonight, it made sense to him too.  Darby felt weaker for being where he was.  Lesser for wanting to come along with the man who beat him.  Again.  He understood it but he didn't like it.  How could he possibly explain that they were different - they were Mox and Darby and stupid rules didn't apply - when he barely grasped it himself?  That he breathed a little easier when Darby was nearby.  That there was something there that could become trust someday.  Which was nowhere near as disturbing as it should be.  That win or loss, he rarely wanted anyone - let alone an opponent -  around after a match.</p>
<p>That when that day came, Mox would be… well, there it was then.</p>
<p>"I'll be hoping you're less of a cheapskate and sprung for the room with the jacuzzi tub."</p>
<p>And for all of his awfulness at pep talks and feelings, maybe he had done okay.  Or maybe… just maybe… he made sense to Darby like Darby made sense to him.</p>
<p>"Yeah?"</p>
<p>Because Mox watched almost in awe as all that uncertainty and exhaustion faded from Darby's eyes and a smile - warm and gentle and actually fucking sweet - slowly appeared on his face.  He had done that.  Something as simple as the truth had made Darby a bit happy.  And for a crazy moment, Mox wondered what his reactions to other truths would be.  Like the fact that those moments when Darby came to his defense were some of his favorite new memories.  Or that he really liked the way that smile looked on Darby's face.</p>
<p>And how much he liked being the one to put it - and the others he'd seen tonight - there.</p>
<p>A part of him wanted rather desperately to put an end to this slightly mushy, soft haze that seemed to have taken over his mind.  Wanted to continue to blame it on tiredness or the number of times Darby had launched himself at him like a human missile.  But that would be snuffing out the little ember of tenderness that was flickering to life.  Ignoring how he liked his world a little bit more whenever Darby Allin was in it.  And for as awkward and vulnerable it made him feel, Mox wasn't sure if he wanted to do any of that.</p>
<p>"I mean… I ain't gonna crash with you if you don't want me to."</p>
<p>And that was the big assumption.  Just because he'd want to be around Darby win or lose didn't mean the reverse was true.  Maybe Darby had no desire to ever help his vanquished whatever-they-were limp back to yet another hotel room.  Maybe Darby was only here because he'd lost and Mox was the only one having… feelings.  And it was fucking ridiculous that he was standing there watching that smile for any sort of hint or clue.</p>
<p>"You can ride with me anytime you want."</p>
<p>That was actually nice to hear.  No wonder Darby was able to remember it only minutes after having his head slammed into a mat.  The words also made his heart beat all funny like a sappy dork.</p>
<p>"Don't know if we'll both fit on your skateboard, though.  I mean I could carry you and try to ride it but I'd probably fall on my ass and you'd go tumbling down and then we'd be right back where we started."</p>
<p>Mox wondered if Darby knew that the corners of his eyes crinkled when he laughed.  It seemed like the sort of thing that he might not know.  The laugh didn't sound as rusty as it had before and Mox was also weirdly pleased about that.</p>
<p>"Hey… where <em>is </em>your skateboard?  They were supposed to grab all your stuff…"</p>
<p>"Umm…"  Mox felt Darby shrug underneath his hand.  "You know that stairwell where you cut your promo?"</p>
<p>He knew it.</p>
<p>
  <em>He's my favorite guy in AEW.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The last time we wrestled I nearly broke his neck.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Please… just stay down.</em>
</p>
<p>And he was pretty sure that he was never going to forget the words he'd said while sitting there.  Mox had known that Darby wasn't going to listen but he'd had to try.  He hated hurting him.  Just because Darby made sense didn't mean he had to like everything he understood.  Something in his expression must have given away his discomfort because now Darby was looking at him oddly.  It was a lot like concern and that was too much.</p>
<p>"Yeah, I know it."</p>
<p>The words were sharper than Mox would like.  Harsher.  But he needed Darby to keep talking and not to keep looking at him like he was <em>worried</em> about him.  It made his skin crawl in a way he couldn't explain.  Not uncomfortable really but different and rare.  And it dampened Darby's smile and that wasn't right either.</p>
<p>"I was trying to grind down it this morning and yeah…"  Shitty hotel lighting had to be playing tricks on him because otherwise Mox was damn sure that Darby was blushing.  "I… uh… broke my board."</p>
<p>Mox laughed.</p>
<p>He couldn't help it.  The whole idea was too fucking amusing.  Only Darby would be messing around with some trick on the morning of a championship match.  Actually… honestly… it reminded Mox of something he might have done.  Like getting into a bar fight at 3 am when he was booked for a match two states over that evening.  That had definitely happened before.  But Darby didn't seem to share in his amusement.  That smile was fading into a frown and that was the last thing Mox wanted.</p>
<p>"Darby Allin, you're my kind of crazy, you know that?"</p>
<p>His mouth apparently decided to speak without his permission again and it was getting annoying.  It wasn't that the words were wrong.  They were honest and true and said with more fondness than Mox was usually capable of.  And he knew that calling someone crazy wasn't exactly a nice compliment but he wasn't trying to be an asshole - the exact opposite, really.  But maybe he actually did make sense to Darby too because he was smiling again.  It was small but full of something that might be - of all things - affection.  </p>
<p>They were closer all of a sudden and it took Mox a moment to realize that Darby was moving forward.  Their mingling personal spaces should be making him antsy but it wasn't and that <em>definitely</em> didn't make sense.  Helping an injured Darby get from point A to point B was one thing but this was different.  Mox couldn't figure out why Darby was still moving closer, though.  His hand was still on his shoulder and he wasn't sure if he should pull it away.  But Darby was still smiling and still moving and a second later than he would have liked, Mox figured out what Darby was doing.</p>
<p>A kiss.</p>
<p>Darby had kissed him.</p>
<p>Well fuck.</p>
<p>It was as quick as he was but the warmth - the echo - was still there on Mox's lips.  Darby was lingering there just inches away, before he started to move backwards.  But Mox wanted something more than that brief touch - needed to taste and feel and know - so he chased after him.  His hand shifted upward to Darby's paint-smeared cheek as he tilted his head enough to place a kiss of his own against Darby's lips.</p>
<p>For a heartbeat, there was nothing.  But then there was the tiniest of moans from the back of Darby's throat and those lips were moving against his, somehow demanding and tender at the same time.  Mox could feel Darby's fingers along his neck but the sensation was faint.  All of his attention was focused on their kiss - on the exact points where their lips were touching.  He had figured that if they ever kissed, it would be more intense.  More violent.  Not that he thought about kissing Darby that often.  Only once or twice or twelve times.  And then there was that one time after that one match on the indies. </p>
<p>And earlier tonight, when he was holding him after the pin.</p>
<p>So maybe he had thought about it a bit.</p>
<p>There was no violence in their kiss, though.  It was careful and gentle.  It was everything that everyone assumed they weren't.  Darby tasted nothing like darkness and danger but instead felt like life and light and Mox hated himself a little more for not finding a way to convince him to stay down sooner.  Of course, someone so fearless would have the courage to initiate something like this - something just risky enough to maybe be a bad idea.  Mox wasn't sure if he would have ever done it but now he didn't want to stop.  Kissing Darby made perfect sense.  </p>
<p>And through some sort of unspoken signal, they pulled away from each other - only far enough to look each other in the eyes.  At some point, his other hand had ended up above Darby's hip and his grip there tightened when Darby raised a single eyebrow in a question.  Tattooed fingers still resting against his neck spread out a little wider and Mox <em>knew</em> they understood each other - that this was okay and good and welcome - even though saying such things aloud was outside of both of their comfort zones.  Darby was back to smiling but there was something a little different about this version of it.</p>
<p>He looked calmer.  More settled.</p>
<p>Darby looked a lot like how Mox felt right now.</p>
<p>"Feeling better?"</p>
<p>"Not really."  Darby briefly closed his eyes and stretched his neck back and forth a few times - Mox's hand moving along with the motion.  The visual reminder of what he'd done not that long ago burned.  "You're not <em>that</em> good of a kisser, Mox."</p>
<p>That was a challenge.  It was a smirk and a challenge and Mox was incapable of backing down from either.  He used his hold on Darby to pull him flush up against him and that smirk only deepened.</p>
<p>"Not that good?"</p>
<p>The growled words hung between them for half a heartbeat.  They crashed together this time.  There was no other way to describe it.  Their mouths met with the sort of intensity that Mox had semi-expected the first time.  Darby's hand reached upward to the back of his head, painted fingernails lightly scraping along his scalp in a way that was just right.  It was just on the right side of possessive - how they gripped and pulled and pushed.  They separated only far enough and long enough to draw ragged breaths only to dive back in, as in sync in this as they were in the ring.  He couldn't quite forget that Darby was hurt - the injuries that he had caused - but with each kiss, the importance of that fact slipped further away.  But not completely though.  It was there in the back of his mind.  <em>Be careful</em> on constant repeat.</p>
<p>The reminder - somehow - wasn't enough to keep Mox from enjoying this moment they found themselves in.  Appreciating every noise and motion and sensation.  Forget the concept of personal space.  Darby was pressed up against him, bold enough to bite his lower lip in just the right way.  Each time they even paused Mox was certain that damn smirk was still there.  And it was still a challenge.  He wanted Darby to be as dazed by his touch as Mox was by his.  Dazed in all the best ways.</p>
<p>But not tonight.</p>
<p>It took more willpower than it probably should for Mox to pull back and stay back.    Darby's lips were slightly swollen and he had no doubt that his looked the same.  They were both breathing a little heavy and that face paint was definitely smeared everywhere.  But the smirk was gone, replaced by a small smile of understanding and appreciation.  Mox kept his hands on Darby as Darby's hands settled against his sides - they were still close enough to be holding each other - which was something he liked more than he knew how to articulate.  But the smile on Darby's face said that he might not be alone in that odd feeling.</p>
<p>Neither of them seemed that eager to say anything but it didn't feel like anything needed to be said just yet.  Fingertips were lightly caressing wherever they had ended up and Mox knew the smile on his face was softer than he usually let anyone see.  He felt exposed but in a good way; something else that - once again - made sense to him.  There was something almost remarkably tender about how comfortable this all was.  Darby took a step forward to rest his forehead against his shoulder and Mox didn't hesitate to shift his arms to pull him into an actual embrace.  He wasn't a hugger and he kind of assumed that neither was Darby but the action wasn't all that awkward.  It was the exact opposite of that, if Mox forced himself to be honest with at least himself.  He had held Darby after their match but this was different.  This was just them - no justification other than wanting to hold and be held.  </p>
<p>All of the softness was taking its toll, though.  The adrenaline from the match was completely gone and the energetic spark from actually kissing Darby was quickly wearing off.  Mox could feel the exhaustion starting to take over and he had a feeling that he wasn't the only one.  Darby was as much slumped against him as anything else.  Not that he minded all that much.  After everything that had happened tonight, Mox wasn't going to let Darby fall.</p>
<p>Not on his watch.</p>
<p>"Mind if I crash on your couch?"</p>
<p>The words were quiet, tentative, and mostly muttered into his shirt but Darby sounded even more tired than Mox felt.  For an instant, he was vaguely irritated that Darby was even asking - they had already agreed that he was staying tonight - but then Mox remembered that they hadn't really confirmed any of that with actual words so he did his best to let it slide. </p>
<p>"Don't have one."  Darby leaned back just far enough to glance around the parts of the room that he could see with half-lidded eyes and Mox couldn't help but smile at the slightly confused expression on his face.  "Which side of the bed do you want?"</p>
<p>"Umm… the one closest to the window, I guess."</p>
<p>Only a little reluctantly, Mox lifted one hand away so he could point at Darby to emphasize the importance of his words.</p>
<p>"No jumping out of the window tonight, Darby."  He was met with an eye roll and a shadow of that earlier challenging smirk.  It was an actual and legitimate concern, though.  But there was none of that shit happening tonight.  "And not tomorrow either.  I've seen those videos you post."</p>
<p>Fuck.</p>
<p>Mox wasn't sure what the more embarrassing admission was:  that he had bothered with social media shit in the first place or the fact that he had done it <em>for Darby</em>.</p>
<p>But there was no mocking or laughter in Darby's gaze.  The blush on his cheeks couldn't be explained away by bad hotel lightning this time - Mox was right there up close - and the small smirk transformed into something fond and pleased.  Those blue eyes glanced downward and Darby reached out to grab the hand that he had more or less jabbed in the direction of his face.  Keeping a loose hold on his hand, Darby brushed along the slightly battered buddy taping of his probably broken finger with his thumb.</p>
<p>"Mox…"  There was a note of regret in Darby's voice and it set Mox a little bit on edge.  The absolute last thing he wanted from Darby was an apology.  That stomp had been one hell of a move.  If anyone should be apologizing for an injury, it was him.  There had to have been something other than the paradigm shift.  Another move that would have kept Darby down.  "I've got an extra roll of tape in my bag if you need it."</p>
<p>And just like that, the edge faded away and it was easier to breathe again.</p>
<p>"Okay."</p>
<p>They were still just standing there but Mox wasn't sure if he wanted to move.  He needed to.  His head was really starting to pound and he was too damn tired but he <em>liked </em>this thing - this moment - that was happening.  It sounded corny and cheesy but it was <em>theirs</em>.  Darby was still holding his hand just so and somehow Mox knew that he wasn't the only one feeling that sort of reluctance.  But if he was feeling this much like shit, then Darby had to be worse.</p>
<p>"You wanna get cleaned up before bed?"   </p>
<p>"Probably should."</p>
<p>And yet neither of them moved.  Never letting go of his hand, Darby had settled back against his chest and Mox found himself sneaking a kiss to the top of his head.  It was definitely time for bed if he was doing things like that.  That level of sappiness could only be explained by pure exhaustion.  With a gentle tug, he urged Darby to move back a bit so he could look at him.</p>
<p>Fucking hell.</p>
<p>Darby was <em>done</em> but of course, the persistent bastard was too stubborn to say so.  He looked like it was only willpower keeping him upright and Mox felt like shit for delaying and stalling for the sake of a few more soft minutes.  Not that he had said anything about how tired he was or about how badly his head was starting to pound but that was different.</p>
<p>"You coulda told me you were <em>this</em> out of it."</p>
<p>The expression on Darby's face was somehow completely unimpressed and annoyed and reminded Mox of the one he'd had back on their ride here.  His eyes were at least mostly open this time, though.</p>
<p>"Didn't want to."  Darby punctuated his words with a quick kiss that Mox was once again too slow to return.  That was kind of irritating and kind of charming all at the same time.  "You <em>might</em> be <em>that</em> good of a kisser.  Maybe.  Haven't decided yet."</p>
<p>The only thing Mox could do was lean down and steal a kiss of his own, resting his forehead against Darby's for a heartbeat or two.  And he was going to completely ignore how the throbbing in his head was quieted by the simple contact.  It felt almost a bridge too far to acknowledge something like that.  Too much, too soon.</p>
<p>"Go get cleaned up."  Mox pulled back so Darby could see his own smirk.  "I'll help you make up your mind later."      </p>
<p>"Promises, promises, Mox."  Darby added to his teasing tone with yet another eye roll but it only made Mox smile.  "You're just as tired."</p>
<p>"I didn't say tonight."     </p>
<p>The words were reflexive and automatic and the snarky bravado fell away from Darby's face until all that was left was a shy, hopeful smile.  And that smile - the sense that he wasn't the only one that wanted more of these moments - was anything but fucking ridiculous.  </p>
<p>Ducking his head, Darby quickly stepped around him, grabbed his bag, and headed into the bathroom.  Mox watched him go - he didn't seem to be limping or anything like that - and then sat down to get his own boots off.  There was this unusual feeling of being uncomfortably aware that Darby was in a different room and Mox really didn't like it.  He was worried about him - that much made complete sense.  And he had already known that he liked having Darby around.  But this was different.  This was the fact that he could still feel the echo of Darby in his arms.  And could still taste him on his lips.  It was tender and raw and not quite wrong.  Empty fingers burned and not even clenching the fingers that he could bend into fists seemed to quelch the flames.</p>
<p>Almost mechanically, Mox continued stripping.  Boots off, socks off, pants off, shirt off, everything chucked in the vague direction of his still upside-down suitcase.  Spending too much time in too many locker rooms had made him not terribly concerned about being seen in his underwear.  He pulled the blankets back on the bed and started to walk around.  Locked up the room, adjusted the temperature, and fiddled with the bandaging on his fingers until there was nothing left to do but pace and wait.  </p>
<p>And hear the loud thud that came from the bathroom.</p>
<p>Mox was moving before the sound finished registering in his brain.  The door wasn't even closed all the way so he could see Darby on the cold tile floor in nothing but skull-patterned underwear, half-slumped against the wall with a wet and black-stained towel next to him.  Rage and frustration rushed through him.  All he had done was let go of him for a few minutes but he had let him fall.  Let him get hurt.  Darby was holding his head in his hands but glanced up and pulled them away as soon as Mox stepped into the bathroom.  He looked dazed - in the bad way - and concern started to chase away the anger.</p>
<p>"Damn it, Darbs.  I left you alone for one minute."  Crouching down next to him, Mox tried not to be too obvious about how worried he was but it was probably a lost cause.  The way his hands were hovering alone probably gave him away.  Darby was blinking rapidly with a frown on his face.  "Did you hit your head?"  </p>
<p>"No.  Just too fucking tired."  Darby extended a hand out in his direction and Mox could only look at it in partially annoyed confusion.  Just tired, his ass.  "Give me a hand up?"</p>
<p>"Nope."</p>
<p>Without even bothering to ask permission, Mox scooped up Darby and lifted him into his arms as he stood back up.  That extended hand almost smacked him in the face but Darby pulled it back against his chest at the last second.  He was tired enough that Darby's weight was more than a little bit noticeable but he wasn't going to drop him.  Not going to happen.  Darby was incredibly still - almost stiff, even if he had bent his knees so Mox could hook an arm underneath them.  </p>
<p>"Mox…"  </p>
<p>There was a blush across his cheeks but Darby was looking directly into his eyes, embarrassment be damned.  Regardless, he almost wanted to apologize for what he'd done.  Almost.</p>
<p>"Not on my watch."  Darby's head tilted ever-so-slightly and one of his eyebrows quirked upward.  "I can't let you get hurt again.  Not tonight."</p>
<p>Mox knew his voice sounded strangled and the words themselves gave away more than he might be comfortable with.  It was that sensation of being exposed again, he supposed.  Of not knowing how much was too much or too far.  But Darby just relaxed in his arms with an affectionate smile.  </p>
<p>"I'm not that fragile."  There was a retort on the tip of his tongue but Darby continued.  "But thanks."  His eyes slipped closed and he rested his head against Mox's shoulder.  "This is nice."      </p>
<p>"Yeah, it is."</p>
<p>And once again, Mox had a feeling that they were both talking about more than the position they were in right now.  That <em>nice</em> encompassed so much more than this particular moment.  Maneuvering carefully through the doorway, it wasn't too many steps between the bathroom and the bed.  As gently as he could, Mox bent down and laid Darby down on the side furthest from the window.</p>
<p>He wasn't taking any chances.</p>
<p>Despite his exhaustion, Darby reopened his eyes long enough to somehow scowl at him and chuckle at the same time.  It was quite the trick.  Mox tried to copy the expression but that just made Darby laugh a little bit harder.  A snicker of his own escaped his lips and they had another one of those soft moments where they just looked at each other.  It was going to take a while for him to get used to those.  Even if they kept happening.  Maybe especially even if they kept happening.    </p>
<p>Taking a second to watch Darby grab the blankets and pulled them up over himself, Mox quickly went through the hotel room, turning off lights.  The remnants of Darby's smeared body paint had dried enough that he would probably need a shower to get it all off and that wasn't something he was going to do tonight.  It could wait until morning.  Mox found his way through the darkened room over to the other side of the bed and climbed in.</p>
<p>Darby was silent as he laid down and Mox kind of hoped he had somehow already fallen asleep.  He had no idea how the logistics of any of this was supposed to work.  It wasn't the first time he'd shared a bed with someone but this was him and Darby and he had no idea if that changed anything.  Or if it should change anything.  It was probably best to just sleep on his side and stay away from Darby's half of the bed, even if he had this odd urge to kiss him good night.  Mox had barely finished pulling the blankets up around himself when he felt Darby shift and move.</p>
<p>An arm draped over him and the warmth of a body curled up behind him took him completely by surprise.  </p>
<p>"Darby?"</p>
<p>There was a kiss pressed against the back of his neck and the feeling was almost ticklish and definitely sweet.  Mox easily found Darby's hand resting against his bare skin and held it close and he swore that he could feel Darby smile.</p>
<p>"You're my kind of crazy too."  Darby twined their fingers together and it was Mox's turn to smile.  "Go to sleep, Mox."</p>
<p>He did as he was told.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-fin-  </p>
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